


Shiver

by swallowthewhale



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:03:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7458793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swallowthewhale/pseuds/swallowthewhale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Who are you?”</p><p>He answers his own question at the same time she does. </p><p>“Sara.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_I'll use you as a warning sign_  
_That if you talk enough sense, then you'll lose your mind_  
_And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be_  
_Right in front of me, talk some sense to me_

He's been having weird dreams lately. Blue light - or is it blue eyes? The first time he dreamt about the blue light, he woke up feeling like the last five months were a blurry dream. But as he plodded through the day, the last five months felt more like reality and the dream just that- a weird dream. Sometimes he wakes up with a phantom grip on his arms and a name on his lips. But the sensation fades with a cup of coffee and he can never put a face to the name.

The heist goes south before it even has a chance. Snart wishes he hadn’t even tried to find a new partner. They’re so hard to train. And since his new partner has decided to go at it alone, Snart figures it’s every man for himself. He’s almost out, too, when his feet are swept out from under him. He scrambles to his feet as gracefully as he can manage, only to come face to face with, well, he doesn’t know who exactly she is, but she looks like one of those vigilantes that’s always running around Star City.

He levels his gun at her, and she flinches like he’s punched her in the gut. She straightens slowly and smirks. “I thought I had cornered the market on coming back from the dead.”

Her voice bounces around Snart’s head. He closes his eyes.

_Yeah, I can tell by the way you were staring at my ass._

_You wanna dance, Leonard?_

_Lonely... like everybody I loved was a million miles away._

_Don’t try to distract me._

_Don’t act like you’re that same cold-hearted bastard that I first met._

_You better be one hell of a thief._

When he opens his eyes, he half expects her to be gone. But she's there, her smirk replaced with a small furrow between her brows and tight lips. He can tell she's worried, even though he's definitely never even met her before.

“Who are you?”

He answers his own question at the same time she does.

“Sara.”

\---

She doesn’t really want to whack him over the head, but he’s still pointing a gun at her and he did just come back from the dead. They should form a club or something. She catches him as he topples, hoists him over her shoulder, and trudges back to the ship. When Rip tries to protest, she gives him a stony look and asks Gideon to prep the med bay. She’s not too worried about Snart’s head, but the integrity of the timeline seems concerning. And the fact that he pointed a gun at her. Again.

Sara is sitting on the floor opposite Snart’s bed in his old room on the ship, sharpening her knives, when he wakes up. She doesn’t move, just watches as he shifts and then suddenly sits upright.

“Sorry,” Sara says quietly, keeping her focus on the edge of the blade. She doesn’t have to look to know that Snart’s scowling.

“Where am I?” He growls, swinging himself out of the bed.

“It’s a little complicated. How much do you remember?”

He frowns and pokes at the screen above the desk.

“Welcome back, Mr Snart,” Gideon says, ever chipper. Snart jumps. “How are you feeling?”

Sara rolls her eyes. “Gideon,” she says, finally standing. “We agreed I would talk to him first.”

“My apologies, Ms Lance,” Gideon says. Sara can hear the comm turn off.

She leans against the wall and watches Snart, who watches her.

“Sara Lance,” he says slowly. “How do I know you?”

“Well, that depends. What have you been up to in the past five months?”

Snart leans into the farthest corner of the room. “The usual,” he drawled. “Nothing… out of the ordinary.”

Sara starts collecting her knives. “And nothing weird happened five months ago?”

Snart tilts his head, watching as she slides the knives back into their hiding spots. “Just some crazy guy talking about the future and legends,” he finally says. “Most of the time I’m not convinced that wasn’t a dream.”

Sara opens the door. “Follow me.”

\---

Most of the team is milling around the kitchen. They watch with poorly suppressed grins as Sara leads Snart through the kitchen into the control room, where Rip is going over star charts and timelines with Gideon.

Sara catches the impressed look on Snart’s face before he smooths it into his usual mix of arrogance and boredom.

“Am I being Punked?” He asks dryly.

Sara rolls her eyes. “This is the Waverider. It's a spaceship.” She pauses, glancing at Rip. “And a timeship.”

Snart raises an unbelieving eyebrow. “Time travel?”

“There's this asshole,” Sara says, ignoring Rip’s irritated noises, ”named Vandal Savage, who destroyed the world.”

Snart sighs. “If I'm not mistaken, the world has not yet been destroyed.”

Sara meets his cool eyes with determination… and regret? “That's because we killed Savage in the past.” She turns to the console. “Gideon?”

Snart's sinks slowly into a chair while Gideon plays the footage of them killing Savage in three different times and destroying the meteors. He rubs his forehead. “Why are you telling me all this? What does it have to do with me?”

“I tried to recruit you five months ago to kill Savage,” Rip says.

Snart nods. “I remember that, I think. What happened after that?”

Rip shifts uncomfortably.

“It doesn't matter,” Sara says firmly. “We could use your help now.”

Snart spends an hour in his room, glowering at the wall. Last time there had been a pretty specific end goal. Sara didn't elaborate much on “help.” He's a thief, not a hero. What kind of help could they possibly need from him? Then Mick knocks on the door.

“Hey, boss.”

Snart narrows his eyes. He doesn't know why he feels a little distant. He doesn't remember being mad at Mick, and yet… “Mick.”

He doesn't move past the doorway. “You convinced me to come on this thing, you know.”

“I don't remember that.” He shifts his gaze to just over Mick’s shoulder.

“I know.”

“Then why are you here, Mick?” Snart snaps, impatient with all the beating around the bush.

Mick grumbles, “I missed you, boss. You should come with us.”

Mick disappears down the hallway and Snart bangs his head back against the wall. More mysteries.

He's almost asleep when there's a dip in the bed. He looks up from under half-lidded eyes to see Sara quietly dealing out a poker game.

“What are you doing?” He asks flatly.

“What does it look like?” She replies mildly.

He narrows his eyes, suddenly very interested in figuring out how to get a rise out of her. She seems like the feisty type.


	2. Chapter 2

“No,” Rip says, getting more agitated by the minute, “we cannot _burn it down_ , Mr Rory.”

Mick huffs. “You said it was indestructible,” he mutters.

“What if Sara and I-” Ray starts brightly.

“No,” Rip and Sara say at the same time.

Sara spots Leonard leaning against the door and winks at him.

Rip groans. “There is no need to make this more complicated than necessary,” he snaps. “We just need to get in, find the schematics, and get out.”

“Sounds like a heist,” Leonard drawls.

Rip closes his eyes. Leonard counts to ten and on cue, Rip turns towards him. He smirks.

“It is not a heist, Mr Snart.”

Leonard shrugs and pushes off the wall to amble over to the console. He peeks over Sara’s shoulder at the building layout. “Well it's definitely not legal,” he says under his breath.

Sara presses her mouth into a thin line to stop herself from laughing.

“It looks like you need a little help planning your heist, Rip.”

Rip throws his hands up in defeat. “Fine! It's yours, Mr Snart. And it's on your head if it goes wrong!” He turns on his heel and all but stomps out. Snart will have to remind him later that he got this whole ship by stealing.

“Okay, then.” He surveys the room. “Go away if you're not Mick or blonde.”

Stein hesitates, but leaves when Leonard raises an eyebrow at him.

Leonard almost grins. “Let's see those blueprints, Gideon.”

It goes off without a hitch. Leonard isn't impressed with future security. All it takes is Sara flirting with the teller, Mick in a security uniform, and an expensive looking suit to get Leonard into the security deposit box room. Sara joins him a moment later with the master key she swiped off the flustered teller. Later, when Rip asks where they got the owner’s key, he waves it off. Rip doesn't need to know that they left the owner of the box unconscious in the alley next to the bank. Rip also doesn't need to know that Leonard, Sara, and Mick had split the thick stack of cash from the box. He would just get red and yell, which never accomplishes much except in giving Leonard a headache.

They’re idling in the temporal zone while Rip, Ray, Stein, and Jax go over the stolen schematics. Sara had dragged Leonard to her room, saying that she can think of lots more productive things to do than arguing with Rip. Apparently that means Rummy 500.

“What’s your favorite?” Sara asks randomly, fiddling with her cards.

“Mint chocolate chip,” Leonard drawls, not even bothering to look up. He knows she’s rolling her eyes even as he studiously reorganizes the cards in his hand.

“Your favorite heist. Your favorite steal.” She grins at him cheekily when he looks up.

He glares half-heartedly and looks back down at his hand. “Are you trying to distract me?” She doesn’t need to distract him to win. The first time they played cards, she had caught his wrist and pulled two Aces out of his sleeve with a raised eyebrow. He’s still not sure what made him more uneasy, the pressure of her fingers on his skin, or the way she read him so easily.

He frowns. They play for a while until Sara nudges his leg with her foot and lifts an expectant eyebrow. He sighs and puts down his cards.

“Lisa always wanted one of those cabbage patch dolls when she was little. Even if we could have afforded it, dear old dad never spent money on anything other than booze. I spent all of November planning out how to steal it.” He fiddles with his sleeve before glancing up at her. “I got caught. The security guard brought me to the manager’s office, took one look at the doll and said he didn't want to see me hanging around again. At the time I thought he just forgot to ask for the doll back, but…” He shrugs awkwardly.

Sara’s face is serious, but he can see the softness in her eyes. It feels less like the pity he expected and more like something else. Something he can't quite put his finger on.

Two days later, Leonard finds Sara in the training room, throwing knives at a wall.

He wants to ask how many people she's killed with those knives. Instead, he asks, “so what exactly are we doing, now the Savage is gone?”

Sara barely glances at him. “Rip says we need to rebuild the Time Masters. They're still needed to protect time, or something.”

He almost makes a joke, but the sallow look on her face stops him. “Sara.”

She stills, eyes trained on the blade in her hand.

He waits.

“It's the bloodlust,” she says stiffly.

She catches his frown and visibly deflates, the tension draining from her shoulders into her grip on the knife.

“I was dead for a year,” she says slowly. Tired, like she's explained it too many times before. “The thing that brought me back left me with the need to kill.”

Leonard stares at her for a moment, his hands in fists by his side. “Savage…”

“I snapped his neck,” she says bluntly. “And it only made me feel empty.” She turns a cool gaze on him. “The bloodlust was the only thing that kept me going after you and Laurel died.”

She tries to brush past him, but he catches her hand. “Sara,” he says quietly.

She shakes her head and gently untangles her fingers from his. “Don't.”


	3. Chapter 3

It takes seven minutes and thirty-two seconds for everything to go to hell. Leonard is in an uncomfortable tux at an uncomfortable party with Sara as his date. It’s raining outside, where the rest of the team lies in wait as backup. It was supposed to be easy and straightforward, as most of Rip’s plans are intended. In Leonard’s limited experience, none of Rip’s plans ever go well.

Sara’s grip on his elbow gets tighter by the minute, and he actually has to lay his hand over hers to remind her not to bruise him. The auction was supposed to start at eleven, but it’s fifteen minutes past the hour, and the auctioneer is nowhere to be found. Leonard has a crisp and very fake check in his pocket for a one-of-a-kind diamond. Uncut and flawless. He had wanted to just steal it before the auction, but Rip hadn’t given in this time. He’s starting to wonder if someone else decided to steal it.

At twenty two mintues and thirty-two seconds past the hour, there are thirty men in ski masks pointing M1928 Tommy Guns at the guests. Leonard glances at Sara as they’re ushered to the edges of the room. Her eyebrows are up and pulled together like she’s afraid, but her eyes are scanning the room for weaknesses. Leonard manages to maneuver them to be closest to the door.

“Weapons?” he whispers in her ear.

She gives him a tiny shake of the head, angry now. He know Rip probably told her not to carry in case they were searched. They don’t have comms either. Sara laces her fingers through his. She holds his hand while they tuck themselves into a corner behind a group of people. Then she starts squeezing his hand. Morse code.

A man stands up and starts fighting with the gunmen, and all hell breaks loose before Sara’s plan is ready. The gunmen start shooting, and people panic, trying to get to the doors. Leonard has been working on opening the vent behind him, while Sara stands in front of him to hide him from the men. He opens the vent just as the shooting starts, but when he turns to pull Sara in with him, she’s gone. He ignores the sinking feeling in his stomach as he pulls the vent back up behind him. Sara can take care of herself, he reminds himself.

Between himself, Mick, Firestorm, and the ATOM, the gunmen are quickly corralled into the vault, where Leonard ices them into a solid block. By the time they thaw out, the police will be better prepared to take over. And water doesn’t mix well with machine guns. Leonard lets Rip handle the clean-up while he goes in search of Sara. He keeps a tight grip on his gun as he searches floor by floor. She’s not in the building.

He tries the alleyway behind the building. It’s still raining hard, and the street lamps do little to cut through the darkness. Sara is pressed against the wall of the building, hair plastered to her face, and a wild look in her eyes. The dress that Gideon fabricated for her, in a pretty blue, is dirty and torn at the knees to give her room to fight. She has a broken wine bottle in one hand and a long, deadly kitchen knife in the other.

She doesn’t move as Leonard approaches her, doesn’t resist as he prys the weapons out of her hands, and only shivers when he wraps his coat around her shoulders.

“C’mon, birdie,” he says quietly. “Time to go home.”

He has to gently push her back to the ship. And he thinks he knows why she’s so dazed. He’d seen the line of bodies in the hallway leading to the back exit.

Leonard lets Sara disappear into the bathroom when they get back on the ship. He’d been considering forcing her to let Gideon examine her, but he’s pretty sure there’s not much Gideon can do. He’ll just make sure she eats later and otherwise leave her be. He knows what it’s like to take a life.

He makes it through five games of solitaire before he tries knocking on her door. She doesn’t answer, so he opens the door anyway. It’s too dark to see much, the light from the hallway does little to illuminate anything other than the floor in front of him. 

“Sara?”

He turns the light on. She’s curled up in the corner of the bed. He deals out hands for Blackjack.

After Leonard wins three games in a row, Sara throws her cards at him and puts on a movie. She falls asleep with her head on his thigh.

In 2126, Sara, Leonard, and Mick steal the jump ship and crash a prohibition party. Apparently the Roaring 20s make a comeback in the early 22nd century. Leonard pretends Sara doesn’t notice the way his eyes crawl up her body when she comes out wearing a short teal flapper dress.

It feels a little like Deja Vu when Mick puts on an old 70s hit on the jukebox and Sara sidles up to him with a coy smile.

“Do you wanna dance, Leonard?”

His mouth goes a little dry but he shakes his head no. Her face falls a little before she shrugs and starts dancing by herself.

“Boss,” Mick says at his shoulder.

Leonard scowls. “Yes, Mick?”

He hands Leonard a beer. “Don’t fuck it up again.”

Leonard decides the desire to know exactly what Mick is saying is outweighed by really not wanting to talk about it. He’s saved by the bar fight Sara starts. More Deja Vu.

It’s a good fight. Good enough that the high lasts Leonard through the trip back to the Waverider and the lecture from Rip. Then he notices Sara is gone.

He doesn’t even bother knocking on her door this time. Sara is leaning against the far wall. She watches him from under drooping eyes. Beneath the exhaustion and anger, there's a challenge. Leonard grits his teeth. In two long strides, he's across the room, his hands in her hair and his mouth firm on hers. She melts into him.

Leonard dreams about the blue light for the first time since he's been on the Waverider. He wakes up dazed and with a set of memories from the past five months that weren’t there when he fell asleep.

He leans against Sara’s door later that afternoon and waves a pack of cards at her. She shakes her head from the bed. He wanders over to lean against the bedframe, fiddling with the cards.

“You know, being on this ship, travelling through time, I’ve started to wonder what the future might hold for me… and you,” he looks up, “and me and you.”

Sara is staring at him, eyes wide. She opens her mouth, closes it, and looks away. He swears her eyes are watery. He brushes her cheek with his fingertips, turning her face back towards him, and kisses her.

When he pulls away, she’s grinning, eyes bright again.

“One hell of a thief,” she mutters, gripping the edges of his jacket and pulling him in for another kiss.


End file.
